


The King

by TatyanaIvanshov



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: (i told you... very very smut), Anal Sex, Angry Sex, BDSM, Basically Porn, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, I'm Going to Hell, Kinky, M/M, Rimming, Smut, Whipping, a lot of smut, a wee bit of chev aftercare too, im sorry grandma, satan wait for me, seriously, very very smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25509316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TatyanaIvanshov/pseuds/TatyanaIvanshov
Summary: Monsieur is angry and the Chevalier knows exactly what to do about it...
Relationships: Chevalier de Lorraine/Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	The King

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is probably the most explicit thing I've ever written (for Monchevy that is...) but I kinda just went wild with it since every time I have them have sex is more "aww" then "OH HOH" so I always hold back. Also, they were very kinky in real life so why not? DON'T JUDGE ME.

Monsieur stomped into his rooms, mignons rushing behind him to catch the coat he tossed over his shoulder as he stormed through, into his bed chambers. He was a tornado, his presence enough to make anyone cower, every mignon in sight stumbling on their words, the images of fear.

“The wine! Now!” He snapped at a younger boy that scurried away before walking into his bed chambers, slamming on the floor his scabbard with the sword inside it. He did not notice the Chevalier that was sat at the study scribbling away inside ledgers and spending records, confused as to why the Prince’s demeanor had shifted to one so sharp and unwelcoming. 

“What did the poor wine do to you?” The Chevalier held up his own glass, swirling the burgundy liquid inside it before taking another sip. His question was met with an icy glare that would scare anyone that didn’t know his Philippe as he did, the tightened jaw and dipped eyebrows telltale signs of his fury.

“Fuck off.” He seethed, beginning to unbutton his waistcoat. The Chevalier was taken aback by the venom that dripped from his lover’s voice but did not take it personally. He knew well enough the anger would eventually subside and bring back to him the sweet angel he loved so dearly.

“Oh, dear. What’s wrong?” Lorraine set down the quill and leaned forward on his elbows, his attention on Philippe who continuously slammed whatever was in sight. 

“Do you want a list?” Philippe tossed his waistcoat on the floor, its buttons clacking harsh against the parquet. 

The Chevalier put his arms up in surrender and sat back, watching the storm of a man from afar as he peeled off his rings and tossed them on his dressing table. The power in his body as he drove around would make a sane man fearful, after all, this was a Prince of France, but the Chevalier sat there and watched him, finding it rather erotic coming from his lover. He watched Philippe take a seat, elbows on the armrests and legs spread open, firm on the ground as his eyes burned bright, his cheeks tinted red with fury. This would be the image burned forever into the Chevalier’s mind, his Philippe, his mignonette, the image of power and grace, someday, on the French throne to rule with fairness and kindness that his brother lacked, a true King in his own right. The thoughts were exhilarating and a smile pursed his lips. 

“I’ll have that list now if you so please.” The Chevalier watched Philippe’s reaction, his head turning slowly, his eyes shooting daggers at the blonde.

“Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?” He spat. If Lorraine was a wiser man, he would run for the hills but instead, he was in love. Anyone with little knowledge of the Prince would ask him why he was being difficult, why he had to be such a brat at times but alas, the Chevalier was not such a fool. 

“Get up.” He simply commanded, earning another sharp glare but no obedience. “Now!” Lorraine pushed to his feet, fists clenched to his side and his eyes holding determination that intrigued the Prince, though he did not let on. 

“You dare command a Prince?” Philippe’s knuckles were turning white as he clutched onto the armrests of the chair, his jaw clenching so hard, he feared he would break his own teeth. “You talk down to one of royal blood as if I cannot have your head with a mere command?” He pushed to his feet, the back of his knees hitting the chair until he flew back.

“Ah, you’re up I see.” The Chevalier ignored his empty threats and walked around the desk he was sitting at, towards Philippe. “Get on the bed.” 

“Fuck,” He bit at the inside of his cheek. “Off.” 

“Bed!”

“No!”

His defiance piqued the Chevalier’s interest. Philippe was not one to disobey Lorraine, often going as far as to request his own submission but this time, there was a wave of anger sparked inside him that ate at his pride to the point where he was no longer willing to obey his commands. 

Lorraine strolled forward, his movements sleek, and his eyes ripe with venom like those of a snake, challenging the Prince with a pursed eyebrow. 

“You will do as I command, or else-” 

“Or else what?” Philippe’s anger boiled, even more tempted to not do as asked for the spite of it. 

“Or else I’ll have to make you.” The Chevalier’s tone was predatory and his eyes even more so, shining bright with promise. 

“You would dare lay a hand on the brother of your King?” Fury was evident enough in his eyes yet it was still written all over him but it did not matter to the Chevalier who was standing eye to eye with the lion, challenging it to bite but all it did was roar. The Prince was frustrated, no doubt, the vein popping on his forehead and the redness of his cheeks was enough evidence of that and it only worsened when Lorraine did not respond. “Answer me!” He shoved the Chevalier and the answer came when his wrist was grabbed and twisted behind his back and a harsh fist found itself forming in his hair, pulling his head back until his scalp burned. He whimpered when his back hit the Chevalier’s chest but it was only a small crack in his facade. He maintained it, continuing to struggle against the rough grip. “Unhand me, you brute.” 

“No, you will learn your place.” Lorraine held on, tugging his hair further back so that his head lay back onto the Chevalier’s shoulder and his pearly white throat was exposed. “Or I will have to show you.” He dragged his nose down, from behind the Prince’s ear and drew breath, watching his lover squirm under the brief contact. 

“The King will-” He attempted a threat but the Chevalier’s hand tightened around the locks, earning a hiss from Philippe. 

“The King? I am the King, mignonette. Do not test me.” The Chevalier rasped in the Prince’s ear, feeling him begin to submit underneath him but the struggling kept on. “But of course, you’ve never good at taking orders from anyone, have you?” 

“Let me go, you heathen.” 

“Wrong.” He bit into the Prince’s earlobe and his lips danced upon the skin, determined to draw out a moan from him. “Once I’m done with you, you’ll know manners.” His grip on Philippe’s hair loosened but only for a moment that was quickly lost. “On the bed.” Suddenly, there was no grip at all. He turned his back and heard Philippe sigh, one that could easily be mistaken for relief but he knew him too well, the sigh was of disappointment. The Prince was always fond of such touches and Lorraine knew exactly how to deliver them and when. 

The Chevalier pranced over back to the desk to grab the unfinished glass of wine and empty it in his mouth before going to fill it again. Behind him, he heard the ruffling of the bedsheets and shoes being kicked off to hit the floor and he turned around to find the Prince sitting obediently in the middle of the large bed, stone-faced and seemingly displeased. Lorraine smirked.

“Get your shirt off.” A brash command but Philippe did as he was told so that he was only in breeches and stockings. “Good.” But Philippe’s facade maintained, remaining determined to be the spitting image of defiance. 

Lorraine admired for a moment, taking his time with the buttons of his own waistcoat before tossing it on the floor and encircling the bed with the eyes of a snake. Philippe’s heart raced in anticipation as he saw the Chevalier pull off his silk cravat and carry it over to him. He came up from behind and the Prince felt the bed sink behind him, until the warmth, ticklings of breath brushed his bare shoulder. His body reacted, the discomfort between his legs growing more significant. 

His breath caught in his throat when Lorraine’s hand reached from behind and traveled to his thigh, brushing up and further in, fingers playful over the thin material of his breeches. He ached for a touch, for something more and he did not control his movements when he led the Chevalier’s hand to his bulge. It quickly became a move he regretted when the touch was snatched and his head was yanked back from his hair once more. 

“Let me-” 

“You will not speak unless spoken to.” The Chevalier watched his lover squirm under the grip, knowing the Prince’s knees were probably burning from the kneeling position, and at the sigh of pleasure, he lost all sense of himself. “You will not be touched until I decide to touch you.” 

“Y-yes, my love.” Philippe swallowed but was cut short when Lorraine dragged his head back from the fistful of hair so his face was in full view.

“It’s your Majesty, to you.” His fingers gripped onto the Prince’s jaw, digging just enough for him to whimper.

“Yes, yes! Yes, your Majesty.” Philippe’s voice came out weak, unable to hold himself together the blonde’s lips were so close. He attempted to reach forward, to take them but he was quickly drawn back and he winced as his scalp was screaming, but the pain went straight between his legs and he wanted nothing more than to beg for harder. 

“What did I just tell you? You forget your orders so easily, Mignonette.” The Chevalier wrestled him until he was able to grab the Prince’s wrists so that he was helpless, and began wrapping the silk cravat around the pale skin. He tightened it until Philippe hissed, trying to set himself free by tugging but it was no use. The Chevalier was too good at makeshift handcuffs and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of them until he’d earned it, now a slave to pleasure, to his lover. “Good boy.” 

He smirked when Philippe gave in and stopped struggling. In turn, he rewarded him with a kiss, one sloppy and filled with desire, enough to drive Monsieur’s body forward in need of a more generous touch. He moaned into his mouth when Lorraine took his tied up hands and connected them to the hook on the bedpost that he had installed specifically for this purpose, and locked it so that the Prince was on his knees at the foot of the bed, facing outwards. 

The Chevalier admired his work, crawling off the bed to encircle the weak body that kneeled helplessly for his lover. 

“You’re so good when you want to be.” He smiled as Philippe struggled against the restraints while knowing well he would not be able to escape them. The Prince loved it, the feeling of helplessness, at the mercy of the Chevalier, unable to move or get away no matter how hard he tugged. It was a feeling that went straight to his groin. “You’re going to be obedient now?” Philippe nodded. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” 

“You will do as you are told?” 

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” His breaths were heavy, coming in sharp pants.

“And you are a loyal subject to the crown?” Philippe’s heart was racing as the Chevalier left his line of sight and he heard rustling and rummaging behind him. 

“Yes, Sire.” He pressed his forehead to the bedpost as he spread his knees to make room for the discomfort that remained full between his legs, with half a mind to simply rub himself against the mattress underneath, thoughts that were quickly cut short when he felt a sharp, burning pain on his back, making him yelp and his whole body tense. 

“Let us test that loyalty, shall we? Let us see how far you’re willing to go for the good of your country.” The Chevalier came forward and Philippe’s eyes widened at the whip he held in his hand, the strip that it connected with on his back still burning. He recognized it as his favorite whip, one the Chevalier had specially made for such occasions and given to the Prince for his birthday, but it rarely came out to play.

“I- Uhm…” The Prince rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, squirming for the least bit of friction between his legs. The Chevalier noticed because, of course he did, and walked back around until he stood behind him, and Philippe prepared himself for another thrash that never came. Instead, the supple skin of his back was met with a soft drag of the whip down his spin, grazing gentle and he settled. 

It was false comfort because soon enough, another lash came, leaving a red, stinging mark across. He gasped, holding back a scream as waves of pleasure were sent between his legs, too brief and mild to earn him any sort of satisfaction. 

“You want to be touched, huh?” Lorraine smirked as he came forward, his fingers grazing over the reddening welts. 

“Yes, Sire.” Philippe nodded, his voice coming out shakier than he’d anticipated. 

“Where? Here?” He twisted his nail into the sensitive skin the whip had struck, making Philippe weep, a low mewl coming from the back of his throat. 

“N-no.” 

“Like this?” Another whip. He screamed. 

“N-no. Bet-between… between my-” He struggled to find words, his head hanging low between his arms as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Speak up, mignonette.” The Chevalier teased before another thrash came down, harder than before and Philippe screamed though it was stifled by a moan as he clawed at the cravat that held his arms above his head. “Well said.” 

Lorraine came forward again and smirked when he saw Philippe noticing the bulge that sat inside his breeches, his mouth watering as he watched the Chevalier put his hands on himself. He’d already unbuttoned his breeches and the object of Philippe’s desire sprung free, large and red, weeping to be touched and the Chevalier did as his own body commanded. He ran his hand over, pleasuring himself at the debauched sight of his lover who squirmed against restraints in hopes of getting some contact onto his own.

He bit his lip to keep himself from losing his mind when the Chevalier’s soft moan echoed, low, yet enough to get Philippe going. It was so close, so needy and yet he couldn’t touch it. His mouth watered. This, he thought to himself, is what a Sun King should look like, golden and divine, an object of desire and the presence of power with beauty that dwarfs all others'. Louis may have been the King of France, its sun, but the only sun that shone for Philippe was the one standing before him.

“What is it, my dear? You seem to have gone silent.” Lorraine watched the Prince struggle to find words. “You would dare look upon your King like this?”

“I’m- I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” Philippe slurred his words, unable to take his eyes off of the Chevalier’s wandering hands that pumped himself in a painfully slow rhythm, the red tip peeking out of his fist and all the Prince wanted was to feel it in his mouth. 

“What is it I see? Envy? You covet what your King has?” The Chevalier’s smug smile went unnoticed by Philippe who squeezed his thighs together. 

“Yes, Sire.” He threw his head back, not realizing the Chevalier walking back to his spot behind him.

“A deadly sin. For that…” Another lash, sharp and brutal, came and Philippe could no longer contain himself, he parted his legs and ground himself against the bed, the feeling of friction being too satisfying to stifle moans that were cut short all too quickly when the whip came down hard again, and again, and again until the whimpering Prince raised himself and the bulge was no longer in contact with the mattress but his entire body was trembling with intensifying need and undeniable throbbing.

“I’m sorry- I’m- I- I’m so-sorry.” He cried, panting. His back burned and his skin was heated, a thin coat of sweat made his forehead glistened and the Chevalier was satisfied with his work. 

“Are you, now? Is this how you prove your loyalty? You know a King cannot be surrounded by traitors.” Lorraine, with a knee on the bed, reached forward until his lips pressed kisses on the Prince’s shoulder, holding promise and making Monsieur giddy with anticipation. His teeth delightfully dug into untainted skin and dragged down toward the red marks, his arm going to cuff around Philippe’s waist when he cried out and squirmed. 

“I’m no traitor, Sire, forgive me.” He hissed when Lorraine bit down further. “Please, I’ll be good, I- I promise.” 

“You’re begging now, huh?” The Chevalier pulled back, smiling as the little body went limp, hanging from the restraints above his head. “You’re pathetic, are you not?” He palmed himself once more, using his entire hand to please himself at the marked, pale flesh. “Answer when your Sovereign speaks to you, whore.” Another lash came cracking down and Philippe’s body jolted to life.

“Y-yes, your Majesty, yes.” He shook. 

Oh, how Lorraine wanted to keep at this until he was crying and begging for the sake of his poor back but he had a better idea. He came forward and, much to Philippe’s surprise, began to unbutton the Prince’s breeches and pulled them down, tugging until, with a little help from the brunette, they were off and all that was left on was stockings. 

His eyes hungrily raked over his lover’s body, admiring every arch and curve that stood trembling before him, all for his satisfaction and enjoyment. The upwards arch of his cock, springing from between his legs was weeping to be touched and relieved but the Chevalier knew better than that. He went back behind and rummaged through a drawer to come back and position himself behind the Prince. 

“Brace yourself, my love.” He whispered against his ear with a split second of kindness before smiling down at him when Philippe jolted at the cold hand against his ass, slithering between until a finger breached past the initial resistance. The Prince pushed back, opening himself further up until Lorraine’s oiled finger was two knuckles in and pushing forward.

But this was different. His finger was not curling, it was not there please at all and Philippe was puzzled until he felt another cold material between his cheeks, pushing past as soon as the finger came out. He tried to look back and inquire but Lorraine grabbed his ankles and pulled him back forcefully with a gasp from Philippe, so that his ass was higher in the air and he was spread wider.

“Shh…” He breathed against his tailbone, a sensation followed by something thick and hard pushing into him. Philippe moaned and threw his head back and it didn’t take long for him to realize it wasn’t Lorraine inside him but rather some well-oiled toy, filling him to the brim. 

“Oh, God.” He moaned and threw his head back, his hole greedily clutching onto whatever it was fed. 

“Good boy,” The Chevalier spoke slowly as he got off the bed and stepped back to admire his handy work. “Incredible.” He bit his lip as Philippe wiggled his hips, getting used to the sensation as he grew harder and thicker. “Mmh, and what do you have to say to your King?”

“Thank- thank you… thank you, your Majesty.” His voice was weak, his lips a scandalous shade of red from nibbling at them for so long.

Another lash came down, but this time, on the pearly white of puckered out ass, earning a jolt and a loud yelp. The Chevalier did not give him time to adjust, instead gave him another. 

“Anything else?” 

“Thank you.” The quick response came as he began to wriggle underneath. Another thrash and another wail. “Thank you!” He tugged harder at the cravat around his hands as his body clutched around the fullness he felt. 

Repeatedly, with each thrash, he screamed out, the sensation ten times more exhilarating and painful when the marks overlapped. The Prince adored it, the ache of his backside as he stretched out around the material inside, all working together to have him on the cusp of madness. His body began to jolt, his back growing filled with welts and he begged for more, begged and pleaded until he had no more power to scream, instead, turning to broken cries that made the Chevalier want to scoop him into his arms and take the pain away but for now, he resisted, taking satisfaction in that little Prince that scrambled to steady himself on the bedpost with weak legs.

“Oh, my dear.” The Chevalier smirked as he heard Philippe gasp when he ran his fingers over the handiwork that was his lover’s back and ass. “You have served your country well.” He reached between the cheeks where hard material inside him stuck out, and he pushed it further, amused at the way pale thighs trembled. He pulled it back and pushed it inside again, repeating the motion in a painfully slow manner that had the Prince crying out and biting his own arm. 

“Please, Sire, please, please, please,” He begged, pushing his hips back into the toy. 

“What is it, little one? Do you want me to stop?” Lorraine teased, slowing his pace further and driving the Prince into frantic shakes of his head. “Alright then.” He stopped, and Philippe writhed. 

“No! No, don’t stop! More.” But the Chevalier was already coming forward, brushing back with a gentle touch the hair that was draped in scruffy curls over his face, making the exquisite Prince the image of sin and debauchery.

“Or, I could simply attend a council meeting and leave you here until I so choose to return.” He took pleasure in watching Philippe’s horrified expression as he shook his head.

“No, Your Majesty, please! I’ve been good.” His eyes glanced down to the Chevalier’s lips, filled with hunger, his mind running wild with desires. 

“Indeed. You’ve been very good. But you must please your King first, mignonette.” Lorraine reached up to where Philippe’s hands were tied together and the cravat was hooked against the bedpost and undid the hook but to the Prince’s disappointment, he only brought it a few hooks down, to a lower one and cuffed it back up. The Chevalier slipped out of his breeches and remained in only white linen, draping down his upper body, his hands going to Philippe’s hair to grab a fistful once more. “Are you going to please your King?” 

“Yes, Majesty.” His white throat was exposed as Lorraine held his head back, unable to help himself from sampling the goods. Lips and teeth made Philippe moan as he, once again, rubbed against the bed but the Chevalier turned a blind eye, amused at the sinful ways his lover pleased himself at thoughts of him. 

“Come on.” He said with a kiss on his jaw before leading the Prince’s head down towards his cock. Philippe wasted no time and fully took it in, feeling Lorraine thrust into his mouth with growing vigor. He moaned around it, swallowing when the tip hit the back of his throat so that he would not gag and feeling himself throb and ache as he continued to please his lover. “Oh, God, yes. Yes! Fuck…” His mouth fell open and he threw his head back, feeling the pleasure coarse his needy body that the Prince satisfied oh- so well. 

His thrusts were sharp and wild, Philippe’s lips growing slick with his own spit as he struggled to take everything in. The sight only drove Lorraine even wilder and when he reached over to the Prince’s raised ass, he began to slip the material slowly in and out, an action approved by Philippe who, with a mouthful, moaned.

Though the reaction was not as satisfied when the Chevalier pulled the slicked wet toy out, leaving Philippe empty and gaping. He whimpered, pushing his ass higher into the air for friction but Lorraine gave him nothing. Instead, he pulled out of his mouth as well, leaving him an empty vessel to collapse onto the bed, exhausted yet still driven by the pursuit of release.

“Oh, you’re so good.” He caressed hair out of the way and pressed his lips on Philippe’s cheek, fingers running over the welts on his back. “Such a good boy.” 

His eyes fell on the tears that had welled at the corners of his eyes at the intense need and he kissed them away, being gentle and kind, traits abruptly interrupted by the sharp smack he gave at Philippe’s whipped ass. 

“Please.” The Prince whimpered, pushing his cock against the mattress in an attempt to relieve himself. “Please, touch me.” It made the Chevalier chuckle, a wicked grin plastered on his face at the broken man that lay there, fully exposed and willing, his body more appetizing and mouth-watering than any pastry in France. 

“You’re begging for mercy, I see.” He gave a last kiss to his temple before hopping off the foot of the bed and making his way around, to the head to where his lover’s sweet, needy ass lay and he crawled closer, admiring the pink and red tints that lashes and nails had left on the otherwise pale skin.

He lowered his lips onto it and took to placing sloppy kisses all over, until Philippe’s body began to come to life again, pushing back onto his face in need of more. And the Chevalier gave it to him. With a deadly grip, he spread his lover open and reached his tongue between, encircling the pink hole before grazing his teeth over it. Philippe underneath became a whimpering, moaning mess, clutching onto the cravat that kept his hands over his head and biting down the red duvet.

“What do you have to say to your King?” The Chevalier smirked against his ass as he continued ravishing and taking. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Philippe chanted. “Oh, Your Majesty, thank you!” He continuously repeated, his screams and whimpers growing louder when he felt a finger reaching in, pushing past and curling inside to hit the precious spot that made the Prince writhe. “Yes! Yes, please! Please, more!” 

“Mmh… more?” His smug smile only widened when he inserted a second finger and watched his lover grow wild underneath, only intensifying when another harsh smack came down on the reddened cheeks. 

“Thank you, Sire, yes! Thank you.” The Prince arched his back, his body sensitive and aching for more. 

“Ah, how about…” Lorraine’s fingers retreated and he flipped Philippe over, his hands still tied up above his head, hissing when his stinging back hit the bed. The Chevalier crawled up and took his lips, bucking his hips forward to rub against him and they rutted against each other with the need to come undone. “This needs my attention.” The blonde smirked as he reached a hand between them to grab the Prince’s cock in his masterful hand, earning a depleted weep as he bucked forward. 

“Yes!” 

“A loyal subject, I see.” The Chevalier bit his lip before making his way down with a playful mouth to put to good use, just as Philippe craved. His head fell back and he closed his eyes when the Chevalier’s tongue began to encircle the firey red tip, his swirls, and licks growing bolder until he wrapped his lips around the head and, with a finger at his lover’s entrance, pushed in. 

“Oh, fuck, oh, God! Ah!” He bucked forward but then back, not sure which touch to lean into, which he needed more, but both were slow and torturous, lust coiling between his legs as he got close. Yet the movements weren’t enough to get him anywhere near the end. He spread wider. “More! Please.” 

“Well, since you’ve been such a good, loyal subject and served your King so well…” Lorraine pulled his mouth off and instead positioned Philippe’s lower half his lap, with legs spread, and his body still laid back against the bed. The feeling of the Chevalier’s tip against his cleft made the anticipation even harder to wait through but it was a reward when his cock finally slipped inside. They both groaned as Lorraine pushed in, the greedy resistance of Philippe’s body not allowing him to easily draw back. So, he pushed all the way in- to the hilt, into a warm, tight sensation that made his body tremble. 

Both their bodies were sensitive after what felt like an eternity of teasing, flinching, and weeping at every miniature touch and it was ecstasy. Philippe tugged harder than before at the restraints, his arms numb at this point and the Chevalier couldn’t take it anymore. His lips trailed to the Prince’s chest where he teased and pleased and felt his lover’s heart drum against his chest. Meanwhile, his hands reached up to the cravat and with a bit of fidgeting, he pulled it out of the hook and undid the lace. 

As soon as it fell off, Philippe’s arms wrapped around the Chevalier’s neck and his legs cuffed around his waist. It was quick thinking but he rolled them over and got on top, earning a chuckle from Lorraine who didn’t seem taken by surprise. 

“Yes, please yourself, mignonette.” He held onto the other man’s hips as he rose and fell onto his cock, riding and taking all he had been begging for into oblivion. The Chevalier’s head was spinning at his lover’s quick pace, feeling himself completely swallowed up by the Prince’s body and he adored it.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” Philippe attempted a smirk but was too worn out for anything other than pure bliss to be written all over his face and was taken by surprise when the Chevalier grabbed onto him and rolled them over so he was once more on top.

“So this is how you want it?” The Chevalier’s hand wrapped around his throat as he pulled Philippe’s legs to cuff around him and fully submerging himself inside, deeper than he’d been prior. The Prince’s giggles were stifled by moans that strung as he was ravaged and slammed into repeatedly with vigor that had him fucked into oblivion until he was a broken, whimpering mess. “Your King will use you and you will be good and take it. I hope I have…” A slow, deep thrust. “Made,” Another. “Myself,” A sharper one that left Philippe winded. “Clear!” 

“Yes, your Majesty, yes!” He wept as he was beginning to feel himself reaching the desired edge, the thick length of his lover that dragged over the sweet spot repeatedly was merciless. 

“Fuck,” The Chevalier mumbled into his lover’s shoulder as he pushed forward. “Don’t finish until I say you can.” He growled, his slams only growing harder and more violent, the slapping sounds of skin filling the room.

“But- Agh! Please!” Philippe managed to spit out, unable to get himself to do anything else other than curse under his breath. 

“Please what?” 

“Please, let me! I can’t hold it!” The Chevalier hold on his neck only grew tighter and Philippe felt even dizzier, the heat around their bodies a thick coat of desire and they went mad for one another. “Please, Sire.” Philippe felt the Chevalier fit to burst inside him and the familiar gasp before every such moment and he grinned between wails. 

Lorraine released his throat and Philippe recognized it as an invitation to finish together, and they did, the Chevalier slamming harder and harder as they rode through a glorious end, pleasure overtaking their bodies until underneath their skin imploded with ecstasy and a toe-curling sensation. Philippe trembled, his vision going black as the Chevalier buried his face in his lover’s neck, intoxicated by every inch of him. White spurts hot liquid pooled between them and with a last, depleted thrust and a cry, the Chevalier collapsed.

Silence soon fell, broken only by their heaving pants, trying to catch their breaths. Philippe’s spilled boneless across the bed, exhaustion taking him over, even as his vision began to normalize, and the Chevalier wasn’t any better, a blob draped over the Prince who wanted to speak but had nothing left within, barely even the mere energy to groan.

They laid there until neither of them could feel their limbs, the cold air making its presence known now that the heat was drained away. The Chevalier felt stiff as he attempted to roll off, barely getting anywhere but closer to the nightstand to reach for a cloth with a groan of exhaustion. 

“God,” He mumbled under his breath, managing to somehow flip over and clean away what was spilled on his chest. Philippe still lay lifeless, the only indicator that he still lived being the very brief heaves of his chest. Lorraine smiled at his peaceful lover, admiring again the angelic look of him, beautiful and as pure as the devil himself. 

He reached forward and lazily cleaned away Philippe’s chest as well, deciding a bath would probably be a good idea. But later. For now, he folded the cloth carefully and put it away, going to the Prince whose eyes fluttered open when the Chevalier’s kisses were pressed on his damp forehead. Lorraine smiled down at him and Philippe reciprocated, a lazy grin going well with his drooping eyelids. 

Lorraine placed a chaste kiss on his lips before, in a gentle, tender manner, helped Philippe towards the pillows and rolled him onto this back to inspect the burning, red welts all over his backside.

“Oh, dear,” The Chevalier said, earning a groggy chuckle from Philippe. 

“I won’t be able to sit for days, will I?” Monsieur guessed as the Chevalier dropped on the pillows beside him so they were face to face.

“I’m afraid not. But it’s no matter. I’ll kill the bastard that did this to my love.” He balanced himself on his elbow and admired his artwork, tracing his fingers down the bumpy, marked skin. So beautiful, every inch telling the tale of to whom it belonged. The Chevalier was proud of it. He owned the Prince and there was nothing more satisfying in the world than knowing he was all his to protect and love just as he knew only he properly could. 

“If you kill him, I’m afraid you’ll have to kill me too.” Philippe also raised himself on his elbows and reached over for his lips, taking them into a kiss of bliss and contentment, smiling at the Chevalier’s chuckles against him. He scooped Philippe into his arms and cradled him into his golden chest where the Prince nuzzled his nose and breathed in the potent smell of sex. 

“How do you feel?” He whispered, referring to his earlier tornado-like mood. Philippe smiled exhaustion hitting his worn-out body that still tingled with sensitivity. Lorraine, knowing this, took his time to caress, to brush grazing fingers over spots he knew the Prince adored. 

“Better. Happy.” Their bodies coiled together, wrapped in a tight embrace, warmed up when the Chevalier brought the bedsheets around them, caressing and running his fingers through the Prince’s hair before filling his damp forehead and temples with kisses.

“Good.” He smiled. “Get some rest and then I’ll get the ointment, run us a bath and you’ll feel even better.” The Chevalier spoke softly, feeling Philippe already dozing off as he lay on his chest. 

“I love you so much,” The Prince rasped, a content smile stretching across his face, safe and loved in the Chevalier’s protective grip. 

“I love you too, mignonette.”

**Author's Note:**

> 😏howdy 
> 
> Side note, I am totally tempted to write a short bit of just Philippe going about his daily life with the welts still there... like just talking to Louis who is like "sit down" and Philippe is like "............no thanks" and Louis being like JUST SIT DOWN and when he finally does, he sits up all stiff and hissing and Louis is just very very confused so Philippe is trying to come up with an excuse like "uhm... yeah I was trying to warm my ass against the fire and accidentally burned it???" and Louis is just even more confused. 
> 
> OKAY SOMEONE STOP ME.


End file.
